


A Home Between the Waves

by MeetMeInTheMatinee



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: F/M, How'd they meet, It's kind of a wacky idea but humour me, Of course John would be a swimmer just look at that back, sadly she will die (eventually), yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeetMeInTheMatinee/pseuds/MeetMeInTheMatinee
Summary: Instead of making the turn underwater John reached his hand up and gripped the wall, treading water with his legs as he swiped his wet hair out of his face. He stared at the wall blankly while he caught his breath. He’d lost track of time—and from the sounds that came from behind him—he was no longer alone.
Relationships: Helen Wick/John Wick, John Wick/Helen Wick
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Not Just for Old Ladies

He propelled himself through the water. No large splashes, just the steady waves he left in his wake. He always made time to get in some lengths at the continental pool—when he could. Luckily it wasn’t too often that he came back from a job with open wounds that would preclude him from diving in. The weightlessness, repetitive movements and rhythmic breathing grounded him in a way that other physical activities didn’t. Unlike the gym, he usually had the place to himself. An added bonus since he wasn’t much for idle shop talk. He did the jobs—he didn’t much feel like talking about them. Get in, get out, get paid. The worst were the people who enjoyed it. The ones whose eyes gleamed when they’d talk about their past exploits, about how quickly or cleverly, slowly or painfully they extinguished someone. Instead of making the turn underwater John reached his hand up and gripped the wall, treading water with his legs as he swiped his wet hair out of his face. He stared at the wall blankly while he caught his breath. He’d lost track of time—and from the sounds that came from behind him—he was no longer alone. 

“I’m just getting things ready for the class.” She said as she hauled the lane ropes out of the water. “There’s still some time before it starts if you want to keep swimming. Nice form by the way.” 

“Thanks.” He said. “Class?”

“Aquafit. Every Tuesday & Thursday at 8.”

“I didn’t know we had that many old ladies staying here.” He teased, trying not to stare at her.

She shook her head and moved to pull another lane rope out of the pool. She stopped and tucked a strand of her long dark hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear before she tugged the rope toward her. 

“Ha. Can’t say I’ve heard that one before. If you’re too shy I do private classes too.” 

John let go of the side of the wall and ducked under the water, swimming his way to the ladder. 

“You know, your left shoulder is pretty stiff. Aquafit could help that.” She called out to him. 

“I thought you said I have perfect form.” 

“I said you had nice form. Not perfect.” She said with a laugh. Unable to keep herself from staring as he emerged from the water. He was tall, well built but not overly muscled. A solid and broad back covered in tattoos. Her eyes drifted down and she took in the massive, dark purple bruise along his left side.

“Guess I was stiffer than I thought.” He said as he carefully rolled his left shoulder and reached for his towel to roughly dry off his face and hair. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

He smiled and shook his head, his hair sticking up at all angles. “It’s fine. I started it.”

“True.” She said as her grimace was slowly replaced with a big grin.

“I can’t stay—work thing.” He wrapped the towel around his waist.

“Every”

“Tuesday and Thursday at 8, I got it.” 

“Helen.”

“Helen.” He said with a polite nod. 

“John.”

“Nice to meet you, John. See you Thursday?”

“We’ll see. Have a good class.” He said before heading toward the change room. 

He striped off his wet bathing suit and wrapped his towel around his waist before he headed into the steam room. He situated himself on the bench and laid down. Letting the heat work its magic on his sore muscles. He rolled his shoulders and hissed as he gently touched his bruised ribs. “What her hands would feel like on his body. Would her hair cascade around their faces as she sank down onto him.” He wondered. He shifted on the tile bench and let out a heavy sigh. The door to the steam room opened, momentarily letting in a blast of cool air. “John.” His eyes opened at the familiar voice. He swung his legs over the side of the bench and sat up. “Marcus." 

"Are you here for the class?” He asked as he sat on the bench across from John.

“No, I was just swimming laps." 

"You should give it a shot sometime. It’s more of a workout than you’d think.” He leaned forward. “The teacher is the one I told you about.” They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before John replied. 

“She’s nice.”

“Who?”

“Helen.”

“Oh. You met her?" 

"Yeah. Today.”

“So you’re coming, then?” Marcus said as he stood up. 

“No." 

"Suit yourself, John.” He said as he got up and moved to the door. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, that’s always been the problem with you.” Marcus said over his shoulder as he left to join the class. 

John sifted his fingers through his wet hair. “What the fuck did he know.” He thought. “Well, except for everything.” Marcus knew him and knew him well enough to know that John needed someone or something to hold onto—that something inside him had shifted and needed attending to. It wouldn’t be tonight though. No. Not tonight. 

————————–

His left shoulder still didn’t feel right. As hard as it was to admit, he wasn’t young anymore. He was slower to heal and sore for much longer. He woke up feeling like he’d been working the night before—even though he hadn’t been. He took a breath and blearily looked up at the ceiling, he exhaled slowly and attempted to untangle himself from the sheets. He didn’t feel like he’d had any dreams but from the way the bed was ransacked it must have been a restless night. “Was I back at the Tarkovsky Theatre? Practicing and falling? Over and over again?” He wondered. It wasn’t often that he could remember his dreams which was a relief. He saw enough during his waking hours—he didn’t want to see more of the same in his sleep. Finally untangled he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He picked up the phone. 

“Hi, this is Wick. I’d like to order breakfast. Coffee. Eggs—poached soft, bacon, fruit and whole wheat toast. Thanks.” 

The soft knock at the door finally got him off the bed. He grabbed a coin and opened the door so they could push the cart into his room. He slipped the coin to the room service person. 

“Thank you.” 

“My pleasure Mr. Wick.”

He nodded and shut the door. He settled into one of the chairs by the window and poured himself a coffee, ate and read the paper. He tugged out the crossword, folded it neatly and set it aside for later. With a pencil. “Fuck, everyone loves that story.” He shook his head. The truth was as mundane as it was spectacular—and horrifying. “You mind your own business working on a crossword at the bar, get attacked and the next thing you know you’re a fucking legend.” He thought. “This is it. My life. In its entirety. I have everything and nothing at all.” He existed in that liminal space between monster and man. He thrived there, once, but now he just felt strangled. He got up, coffee in hand and picked up his watch from the nightstand. 8AM. Thursday. “Helen.”

————————————-

She’d always been a morning person. Waking up chipper and ready to go the moment her feet hit the floor. This morning was no different. She stretched lazily, put on her silk floral print robe, slipped her cellphone into the pocket and went to the kitchen to make her morning americano. Her home—the one she’d kept in the divorce—was airy and minimal. A far cry from the cluttered, darker space it had been when her husband was there. She’d remodelled everything after he left. More accurately, after she kicked him out for fucking someone—or, as it turned out a string of someone elses. “What a goddamn disaster that had been.” She looked around at the kitchen and felt a wave of contentment wash over her. Everything about the place was definitely hers and she’d worked hard to make it so. “Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something?” She thought to herself as she sipped her drink at the counter, looking out into the backyard that was still heavy with the morning mist. She opened her phone and went through her calendar. Double checking to see if there was something she’d overlooked. “Photography class? No. That was done until the next section started up in a few months. Private client appointments? No, those were all next week. Aquafit at the Continental tonight. Right.” Suddenly it became clearer. She wasn’t forgetting anything. She was looking forward to something. “That guy from the pool.” She thought as she settled onto the couch to scroll through the news on her phone. “I wonder if he’ll turn up today. What the hell was his name again? Josh. No. James? Hmm. John! Yeah. That seems right.”

—————————————

She was hauling out the last of the equipment when he walked in. She smiled to herself—knowing her face was obscured by her hair as she placed the foam weights along the edge of the pool. 

“Hey, John. Didn’t realise you were an old lady at heart. Joining the class today?” 

“Thought I’d give it a try.”

“I expect you to do better than try.”

He heard the low murmurs of the people already in the pool. “She’s got balls. Talking to Wick like that.” She heard them too and she knew exactly who she was talking to. She just didn’t care. He smirked at her. Colour rising to his cheeks. “I better get ready then.” He said.

She handed a foam belt to him when he came out of the change room. 

“I’m good.” He said.

“You’re used to being strapped up aren’t you? Just put it on. If you don’t you’ll have to stay in the shallow end for most of the class and you’re far too tall to get any benefit from the workout that way.” She said as she thrust the belt towards him. 

“I didn’t think of that.” He said as he tried to take it from her, but she didn’t let go of the belt. 

“How about you do less thinking and more listening and following instructions.” She said with a smirk before she let go, leaving John to put it on as she took her place at the side of the pool and welcomed everyone to the class. 

John followed her instructions. Her voice, strong, and clear over the music as she demonstrated the movements on deck. She called out encouragement and corrections in equal measure. Always with a kindness that was impossible to overlook. He wanted to do his best. For himself but also because of his overwhelming desire to impress her. Which was—unusual—to say the least. Now he knew what the fuck Marcus was talking about. How Marcus knew what he was talking about was an even bigger mystery to John.

“That’s it for today, great work everyone! Take your time getting out and don’t forget to hydrate.”

A chorus of “Thanks, Helen. Great class Helen. See you next week.” reverberated around the tiled pool room.

John watched out of the corner of his eye as people chatted with her as she started putting away the equipment. He did a few slow laps until everyone had cleared out except for her. 

“Your stroke is looking better, John. How’s the shoulder feel?”

“A lot better. Thanks for asking. And for the class.” He added hurriedly. 

“Judging by the colour on your face it’s not just for old ladies, huh?”

He laughed and made his way to the ladder. Enjoying the lazy glide of the water over his body.

“No, not just for old ladies.”

“So, see you next class?” She asked as he dripped water onto the pool deck.

“I think so.”

“Good.” She went back to putting the last of the equipment away but the gentle smile on her face as she worked didn’t escape John’s notice.


	2. Exploration

He was a fixture in her classes for the next month. They’d developed an easy banter—gently teasing each other when they’d chat after class. John would help put the lane ropes back in and she’d pretend to not stare at the curve of his ass, the broadness of his back. Just as suddenly as he’d become someone she looked forward to seeing—he was gone. Without word or warning. She was used to that, working at the Continental. People came and went and sometimes never came again. It wasn’t like the other places she taught or her private clients—she knew enough to not ask after anyone. John’s absence gnawed at her in a way that caught her off guard. “Fuck.” She thought as another Tuesday went by without him. It’d been a month now. Thursday she resigned herself to never seeing him again. The pool was empty when she turned up and went through her routine. The door clicked softly shut and she heard the sound of someone walking towards her—slowly. She let go of the rope she was hauling across the water and turned. “Hi Helen.” Her breath caught in her throat. 

“John! It’s been a while.” A wide smile spread across her face. 

He looked pale and exhausted.

“I know. I’m—sorry. I wanted to let you know it will be a while before I can come back.”

“I can see that. You don’t look so good.” 

He laughed softly. “Yeah. I’m not too good. Getting better though. Well, I’ll see you around.” 

Helen chewed the corner of her lip as he left.

“Have dinner with me?” She called after him. “Tomorrow?”

He turned, slowly. “Dinner?” 

“Yeah—if you’re free?” 

“Are you fine with room service? Not really in any shape to travel anywhere at the moment.”

She tucked a strand of hair that had worked loose from her ponytail behind her ear.

“Room service is lovely. Is 7PM ok? I have a client in the early evening.”

“7 is good. I’m in room 813.” John still looked and felt utterly exhausted but that didn’t stop the almost fluttery feeling in his chest that had started since he’d stepped foot in the room. 

“I’ll let you get ready for class.” A wide smile lit up his face but quickly disappeared as soon as he started to slowly move toward the exit. 

“If you don’t feel up to it tomorrow just let me know, alright?” She called after him

“Tomorrow at 7.” he answered.

——————————————————————————————

The beauty of having clients at the Continental was that no one ever asked questions or commented on anything. No one batted an eye at Helen as she walked through the lobby, a little more put together than usual, her hair down, a pale pink silk blouse tucked into fitted oxblood pants with black patent leather pumps. She exchanged a friendly smile and nod with Charon as she passed his desk and headed toward the elevators. She pressed the button for the 8th floor and took a deep breath as the gilded doors slid shut. She didn’t feel nervous, exactly–just keenly aware of how out of practice she was. She’d asked him out after all. “He said yes. Just see how it goes. It’s not a marriage proposal, it’s dinner.” She thought as the soft ding of the elevator sounded and the doors opened again. She found her way to room 813 and stood in front of the door for a moment before reaching out and knocking.

It took a little while for John to answer. He looked through the peephole just to make sure it was Helen—he couldn’t take any chances in the state he was in—and opened the door.

He awkwardly stood and looked at her for a moment. She smiled widely and tilted her head, brows drawn together in confusion.

“You ok John?” 

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, come in.”

He stepped aside so she could enter. He gently closed the door as she walked further into the room. 

She looked around the room, taking in the space, the design of it, how little of John there was in here to give her any insight into who he was or might be.

“You look beautiful.” He said quietly from behind her.

She grinned and dropped her chin before turning to look at him.

“Thanks, John. You look handsome.” She rested her hand on his elbow and rubbed her thumb across his arm lightly. 

“This is a really nice sweater.” She admired.

John didn’t really know what to do with the compliment or with the fact that she was touching him. So gently. He felt his cheeks get warmer. 

“You look a lot better than yesterday. You have so much more colour in your face—and not because I just made you blush, John.” 

“It was nice to have something to look forward to.” He admitted with a shy smile. 

“Would you like a drink before we order?”

“That’d be nice.” She sank back into the leather armchair near the bar cart.

“Red ok?”

“Perfect.” 

He poured two glasses and handed her one before he slowly and very carefully eased himself into the chair next to hers. 

“I guess fucking on the first date is out of the question, huh.” She said with a wry smile.

John nearly spat his wine everywhere. He looked at Helen, his eyes wide with surprise.

“It’s ok. Swallow. I didn’t take you to be the hothouse flower type.”

He narrowed his eyes at her playfully.

“I’m definitely not that.” He paused and considered his next words carefully. “If I wasn’t injured…” He trailed off.

“Good to know.” She said with a smirk. 

“How was it that you wound up here?” 

“Here, right now here or here working here?”

“Whichever you want to answer.”

She licked her lower lip and set down her glass as she leaned forward. 

“I’m from a PT background. I didn’t work for a while and—don’t roll your eyes—but I was a stay at home wife. He was a surgeon. We met in college. He told me I needed to support him, since his hours were so long and blah blah.” She watched John as he listened. He didn’t seem to be listening as much as he was absorbing the information. “Anyways, I had a few clients that I saw every now and again but then we divorced. Well, I divorced him when I found out how many of those long hours weren’t actually for work. After that I wanted to go back to building a career, do something more rewarding. Someone from the Continental reached out to me and I decided to take a chance.”

“How much–”

“Do I know about this place?”

“Yeah.”

“I have an iron clad non disclosure agreement and a hefty salary. I know enough to keep from asking questions about the fact that sometimes people just disappear or show up with serious injuries that I somehow have to help them rehab.”

“What about you, John?”

“I know more than anyone ever should.”

She laughed softly.

“I meant are you or have you ever been married.”

“Oh.” He took a sip from his glass and traced his thumb over the stitching of the leather chair.

“No, never have been. If I was I definitely wouldn’t have invited you to have dinner with me here. There’ve been people, sure. In my line of work….” He trailed off.

“I travel a lot. The hours are rough and it’s—”

Helen laid her hand over his arm and squeezed gently. “It’s fine. You don’t have to explain. There’s nothing wrong with putting yourself first.” She lifted a brow and tipped her glass at him before she continued. “It’s usually when people don’t do that that they run into trouble.” 

“I run into trouble no matter what.” A rueful smirk on his face as he gazed into his glass. 

He eased himself forward in the chair, wincing as he moved. 

“Are you hungry? We can order if you’d like.”

“I’ll help you up.” She said as she eyed him as he struggled to move.

He sighed in resignation and relented. To be touched so confidently and yet so tenderly filled him with apprehension. She helped him into a standing position and before he could get the words thank you out of his mouth hers was on his. 

His feeling of apprehension melted away with the soft warmth of her lips. Every movement she made was slow and careful. She captured his lower lip between her teeth and he opened his mouth to her. How she had so skillfully taken control and gotten him into this position was beyond his understanding. John unconsciously moaned as her tongue slid against his. He was breathless when she pulled away. Helen smiled and brought her fingers to her lips. She savoured the gentle burn of her upper lip from where John’s five o’clock shadow had rubbed against it. John ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip. 

He rested his hand against her lower back and ushered her over to the small dining table, pulling out the chair for her. He rested his hands on the back of her chair and carefully leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you.” She said as she arranged the cloth napkin on her lap as the bellhop lifted the silver dome off her plate.

John echoed her sentiments and slipped the bellhop a coin.

They ate and luxuriated in each other’s company–trading jokes and secrets, preferences and life experiences in an open and honest way that Helen had so deeply longed for. John admired how grounded she seemed, how firmly rooted in care—both physical and emotional her life was. Not the kind of care that came at the expense of herself, a modern martyr in the service of others. No, she’d discovered the cost of living that way. She’d never go back to that place again. She’d grown and stepped into herself in a way that reinforced her values and boundaries. 

John seemed like even more of a mystery now. He blushed easily and folded into her touch. Listened so intently and responded so thoughtfully to her questions. He seemed kind—and maybe a little desperate to be recognized as such. “All of the man before her was at odds with his work—but then again, maybe it wasn’t.” She reasoned as she chewed another bite of food. The two of them quietly tried to figure the other out in between their conversation. The conclusion they both silently came to was that this—and they were worth further exploration.

Helen gripped John’s hand and turned it over, looking at his watch. 

“I should go. I have to drive home before I get too tired.” She said.

They were leaning against each other on the couch. John’s arm wrapped around her waist and her head on his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against her head. 

“You’re welcome to stay.” He said quietly.

“I’d really like to. It’s a very tempting offer.” She said before she turned and kissed him. 

“I just feel like it’s one thing to be seen visiting and another to be seen leaving here in the morning.”

“Mmm Good point. 

“Plus, you need all the rest you can get to heal properly—and I do need you to do that for me.”

“Noted.”

She wrote down her number on the back of her business card and left it on the side table.

“Don’t be a stranger, John.”

They shared another slow, longing, kiss before she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this really niche fic.   
> Not sure how many chapters it will be but I wanted to write a fic about John & Helen.


End file.
